


I'll Ask Again

by SheSaidRun



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Bashing, Gen, I promise some happy stuff will happen, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Past Abuse, eventual slash, harry's got a shitstorm of angst coming at him, mentions of abuse, prepare yourselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheSaidRun/pseuds/SheSaidRun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if Harry and Ron never made up during the Triwizard Tournament? The Gryffindors have turned against Harry and he has to find help in other places. When he faints in front of Professor Snape, will the Potions Master help him? Harry will have to decide who he can trust as he muddles his way through the deadly Tournament.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Huston, We Have A Problem

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, and I have no beta reader so any mistakes are mine. This story will eventually be a slash pairing, so if you don't like that, don't read it. However, that won't be happening for a while, as Harry's got a lot of stuff to sort out before he can have any sort of healthy relationship.

_Ronald Bilius Weasley is an arse,_ Harry thought. It was the first time he’d allowed his thoughts on the youngest Weasley boy to become quite so harsh. He’d never understood why Ron was the way he was. He knew Ron had some dormant issues with Harry- namely his wealth and fame- but it had never been this bad before. Harry was the constant target of harassment at the hands of Ron and several other Gryffindors. It was getting so bad that Harry couldn’t even get out of Gryffindor Tower without at least one incident. He’d slipped in the bathroom more times than he cared to count due to well-placed slipping hexes courtesy of Ron and Seamus. Dean had kept quiet. He never helped Harry, but Harry was just glad that Dean wasn’t siding with everyone else against Harry. It seemed that the only fourth year Gryffindors on his side were Hermione and Neville.

They had been doing their best to shield him from the worst of it, but they had limits. Hermione couldn’t go everywhere with him, and Neville was naturally soft-spoken and had difficulties expressing _himself_ , let alone standing up for someone else. Neville was always helpful after the fact, though. He did his best to help Harry get over the effects of whatever prank or insult had been thrown at the Boy-Who-Lived and tried to prevent Harry from breaking down. And he was doing a good job of it.

Or so he thought.

What Neville didn’t know was that Harry was slowly losing the battle against the overwhelming harassment he was subjected to. He barely ate, and when he did, it would never be more than a piece or two of toast at breakfast, and maybe some rolls at dinner. He’d taken to getting to the Great Hall before everyone else to get his bread, which was all he had time for before Ron and his lackeys got there. If Harry was still around by the time they showed up, then Harry’s food would mysteriously spoil, or disappear as he tried to swallow it. As a result, the raven-haired boy was slowly starving. Thick glamour charms concealed the fact that Harry was emaciated.

Harry never let the glamours down, not even to shower. The only time he ever took them off was while he was asleep, and only after carefully locking and warding the curtains around his four-poster bed. The only reason he hadn’t collapsed already was the potions he’d been taking.

Unbeknownst to Professor Snape, Harry had been brewing his own Pepper-Up and nutrient supplement potions for quite some time. The previous summer he’d managed to keep his books from getting locked in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley’s by shrinking them before he left Hogwarts after owl-ordering a few extras, just in case. He’d spelled them to return to their original size with the right keyword. Because of this, Harry had plenty to study over the break, in between being worked like a slave by his relatives. As such, Harry’s understanding of several subjects had skyrocketed, including Potions. It was similar to cooking, really, and much less difficult without Snape breathing down his neck, looking for the smallest mistake to use as an excuse for punishment.

So, yes, Harry had improved in his understanding of several subjects, especially since he spent most of his time in obscure corners of the library in order to hide from his persecutors, but he wasn’t about to let everybody know about it. He spent enough time in the spotlight already, thank you very much; he didn’t need a sudden jump in grades making anybody curious or suspicious. And he couldn’t really blame it on Hermione’s influence either, as her attitude toward studying had always been the same.

So he stayed low. He kept away from the public’s attention as much as it was possible for the Boy-Who-Lived—which wasn’t very much, regrettably.

As a side effect of Ron’s bullying, Harry hadn’t gotten close to any of the visiting students. The members of Beauxbatons and Durmstrand avoided and ignored him, respectively. The Beauxbatons students made every effort to keep away from him. He wasn’t up to their standards, he supposed. The Durmstrang students didn’t shun him, per se; they just didn’t pay him any attention. It was as if he didn’t exist to them. That thought hurt, but it was less painful than the alternative.

Ron had been trying to get on Viktor Krum’s good side. He’d buddied up to him every chance he got, but Krum seemed to simply brush him off. However, the youngest Weasley boy was persistent if nothing else. Within the month that the visitors had been there, Ron had managed to visibly irritate the Bulgarian Seeker and his schoolmates to the point where even Ron’s flunkies would find an excuse to not be around when he started annoying Krum. They didn’t want to be included in the many glares shot Ron’s way or the ever so subtle hexes that had started being thrown his way when he got too mouthy.

Eventually though, Krum became interested in just who it was that the Weasley boy was constantly ranting about. The boy never gave a name, so he wasn’t sure whom he was even talking about. _He most likely thought that everybody felt the same as he and did not even bother with it._ Krum thought. _He does not realize that no one outside of this castle knows or cares for his petty arguments with the other students._

Ron had recently decided that Harry’s name wasn’t worth saying. He never used it anymore. All of Hogwarts knew of his hatred for the last Potter, so no name should be necessary. At least, not in Ron’s opinion. What he didn’t think about was, how were the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students supposed to know about it, if nobody told them? Almost none of the students spent much time with those from the other schools. They were too intimidated by the veela-like nature of most of the Beauxbatons attendees, and the Durmstrangs made it obvious that they had no wish for company beyond their own. They were a bit like Slytherins that way, who were the only people who’d managed to last more than five minutes near any of the Durmstrang bunch, aside from the thickheaded Ron.

Ron seemed to believe that Harry had personally betrayed him somehow. Harry’s name coming out of the Triwizard Cup had been a shock, and shock does things to a person. But, instead of dying, Ron had become poisonous and hurtful. He ranted and raged about how unfair it was that Harry got to compete, that Harry should have told him, and that he’d always known Harry was up to no good. That Harry was going to go Dark one of these days.

Even seeing him get nearly burnt to a crisp by an angry dragon hadn’t settled Ron’s ire for Harry. And Harry really did almost die. The Horntail had gotten in one good shot before the Gryffindor managed to snatch the egg. Harry had suffered in the hospital wing for three days before Madam Pomfrey allowed him to even stand, let alone attend classes. The vivid red burns had started at about the middle of Harry’s ribcage on his left side and continued down until around mid-calf. The only good thing about it was that Harry finally got food that wasn’t hexed or poisoned. Madam Pomfrey was practically shoving the huge meals down her patient’s throat. The first night hadn’t been very nice after she fed him, though. Harry had crawled- _slowly_ \- to the bathroom to throw up. His stomach couldn’t handle so much food after eating so little for so long.

Thankfully, all that time Harry spent in the library had bore fruit. He’d managed to find the research journals of several obscure wizards with Spell Creation Masteries. One of them had detailed the process of casting a complex glamour that was easily tweaked to fit Harry’s needs. The changes he’d made had allowed the glamours to function even while Madam Pomfrey was scanning his injuries and administering treatment. The only anomalies that appeared after her diagnostic spells were a few scrapes and the burn from the first task.

And so Ron’s harassment continued. It got worse when he saw Rita Skeeter’s article about Harry and her ‘suspicions’ about the relationship between him and Hermione. So Harry endured. Then Ron crossed a line.

Harry was on his way to Charms class on his first afternoon back in school when he heard it. It’d only been a week since the first task, and he was still recovering from some of the burns he’d gotten along his leg and side, so it was slow going. He’d left early to make sure he got there on time. He didn’t want Snape on him about being late, too.

“Oi! Scarhead!” Harry turned around slowly, wanting desperately to avoid the upcoming confrontation, but unable to think of a way out. Ron was tapping his foot impatiently, waiting for Harry to face him fully.

“Yes, Ron?” It was cautious and quiet, exactly the opposite of what people usually expected from The-Boy-Who-Lived. But the, Harry had never been what people expected.

“I heard about the nice, big, _ugly_ scar you’re gonna have after what that Horntail did to you,” Ron said with a smirk. It’s just too bad she didn’t aim a little higher. She might have hit your head instead and killed you. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Ron was enjoying this. He liked watching Harry flinch and his eyes widen as each verbal jab struck home. “In fact,” he continued, “why don’t you just finish the job yourself?” Harry jerked as if he’d been struck. “You’d be doing us a favor you know. Killing yourself. It’d make the world a better place. Without you, we’d all be able to relax. We wouldn’t have to worry about you going insane and killing us all. The only reason people think you’re special was an accident, and that you lived was a mistake.”

Now that hurt. Harry couldn’t believe Ron could go that far. Sure, he knew Ron didn’t like him, maybe even hated him, but to suggest something like that…. And then the last thing he said clicked, and suddenly, Harry was angry. He was enraged. His wand was out and pointing at Weasley before he could blink. Ron fumbled at his pocket, trying to get his own wand before Harry started firing curses.

“You shut your mouth! My mum _died_ trying to protect me! I don’t give a flying _fuck_ what you think about anything, but if you try and tell anyone that what my mum did was pointless or stupid or any other bloody thing your idiot head can think of, then I’ll curse you so fast it’ll make your eyes cross and get stuck that way.” Ron had never seen the boy in front of him so angry. His fist was clenched around his wand in a white-knuckled grip and his green eyes were flashing, practically glowing from the force of his emotions. They were Killing Curse green and his hair was subtly shifting, as if in a light breeze as his magic rose around him, almost tangible.

Ron was suddenly very very afraid. He thought he’d been around Harry to know all there was about him, including his magic levels. But he’d never seen anything like this. You could feel the magic roll off Harry in waves, crackling and snapping as it responded to the raven’s emotions, and it was terrifying to the redhead. Ron snapped back to reality as Harry continued, his voice growing louder

“It’d be an improvement anyways. Maybe then you’d be able to see what a git you are. Maybe you’d be able to see that Krum doesn’t want anything to do with your bloody smear campaign and neither do any of the other Durmstrangs. But you’re a fool, Ron Weasley, if you can’t see that I will _never_ allow _anyone_ to speak badly of my mother. Her sacrifice saved me and helped to destroy Voldemort and- don’t flinch at his name you bloody coward- and if you think that she did wrong, then maybe _you_ are the one everybody should be suspecting of being Dark!” Harry’s magic continued to force its way out of the small body, becoming almost visible in his anger. It made him look huge to the other boy, powerful like nothing he’d seen.

As if out of nowhere, Snape appeared behind Harry.

“Mr. Weasley! You will be serving a detention with Mr. Filch for provoking another student! Report to his office tonight after dinner.”

“But, sir! He was the one-“

“And twenty points from Gryffindor for talking back to a teacher. Now get to class before I stop being nice.” Snape snarled at the idiot child in front of him, and the boy ran off. He walked around the student in front of him, trying to get a look at the person’s face. The brat seemed smaller than any of the fourth years, so he wondered why the Weasley boy had been arguing with him, wands out. But the magic he’d been able to feel three corridors over spoke of someone much older and more powerful than any student at the school, getting close to his own, if not Dumbledore’s. When he came to a stop in front of the boy, whose magic was still permeating the air, his jaw nearly dropped in shock. If he hadn’t spent years controlling his emotions to the degree that even the Dark Lord could decipher them, he probably would have fainted. Glaring at the redhead’s retreating back was none other than Harry Potter.

Abruptly the boy looked up and met his eyes. His magical outflow cut off and Severus saw what he thought might have been fear cross the boy’s face before his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled like a puppet with cut strings. The Potions Master jerked into action, barely catching the boy before he hit the ground. Severus swung him up and into his arms before heading to the hospital wing. He didn’t know why the boy had fainted, but he thought it could be because of the injuries he’d taken during the tournament. Even he had to admit the boy’s feat was impressive, especially considering he’d practically been on fire when he’d gotten past the she-dragon.

As he looked down at the boy in his arms, there was a rapid release of magic emanating from the small body. While he was watching, the Potter kid’s form seemed to shrink in front of him. Bags appeared under his eyes and his cheekbones became more pronounced. His hipbone was sharp in Severus’ side and- was he _shorter?_ The Potion’s master realized that the boy had been wearing glamours, and rather complex ones at that. _But whom did he get to put them up for him?_ As a teacher, Severus was privy to the students’ grades, and he didn’t think the brat had the smarts to accomplish that kind of high-level casting. So unless the boy had friends in high places, Severus was at a loss to know who’d helped him. _Maybe Albus helped him. He’s got the power and skill for it. But why?_ Unexpectedly, Severus found himself concerned for the boy. If Albus had seen him like this- emaciated, small, nearly _dead_ \- then why had he put a glamour on him instead of getting him treatment? Suddenly, the hospital wing didn’t sound like such a good idea. If he took the boy there, Albus was sure to know about it.

Severus abruptly turned and went back towards the dungeons. If Potter was in the middle of some sort of conspiracy, then he was probably in more danger than he had thought. Even if he didn’t like the kid, he didn’t want him dead. And if anything he’d learned over the years was true, then the boy was important. Severus didn’t give credence to Albus’ insistence that Potter was the only one with the ability to kill the Dark Lord, but it wasn’t inconceivable that the two were tied together since that night thirteen years ago.

The Potions Master didn’t loathe the boy, though that would surely surprise anyone who heard it. But, he did have a part to play, and if the Dark Lord ever suspected that Severus wasn’t fully loyal, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

Entering his private quarters, Severus laid the boy on the couch. After locking the portrait door that guarded his rooms, he threw some floo powder into the hearth after flicking his wand to start a fire. The flames whooshed emerald green and Severus called out.

“Hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey!” Poppy appeared quickly, looking surprised.

“Severus! What is it? Have you had a cauldron explosion? Has a student been injured?” With the dunderheads he taught, Severus thought it was no surprise that Poppy immediately assumed that’s what happened. 

“No, Poppy, I haven’t had a cauldron explode,” Severus said dryly. He used to call her Madam Pomfrey, but eventually gave in under the persistent woman pressing him to use her first name. She was obstinate that they be on a first name basis. “I need you to bring your kit and floo to my quarters immediately. I’ll explain when you get here.” With that, he pulled his head back through the flames and set about making the boy on his couch as comfortable as possible until the medi-witch arrived. When she stepped through the flames, Severus immediately put up a distortion charm to make it difficult for the woman to see the boy. She raised an eyebrow at that, but waited for an explanation. “Before I show you why I needed you, I need an oath that you will not speak of this with _anyone_ without my or the patient’s prior consent. They look to be in pretty bad shape, but they’ve had glamour charms up for so long that it looks like they’ve become instinctual. They only fell when they were magically exhausted, and I suspect the child may be involved in something dangerous.”

Severus looked at her steadily, waiting for a reaction. If she refused, he would tell her to leave and do what he could for the boy himself. He was a Potions Master after all. He might not be medically trained like Poppy, but working for both the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore required him to have at least basic knowledge of wound management. He looked back at Poppy as she raised her wand.

“I, medi-witch Poppy Marie Pomfrey do so swear upon my magic that I will not speak of, write about, or otherwise communicate what I am about to learn with anyone without the prior consent of Severus Tobias Snape or the patient I am about to treat.” Her wand tip glowed a moment before fading. She cast a quick Lumos to prove her sincerity and then gestured to the couch, silently asking for him to take the charm down. When he did, the witch’s eyes widened as she saw who was laying there. She whipped her head around to stare at Severus. What in Merlin’s name was going on and why did he have a very severely undernourished Harry Potter lying comatose on his couch?


	2. Healing and Another Oath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus brings Poppy up to date on what he knows, and another person becomes involved.

 

“Severus, what-“ Poppy began. She was shocked. How had Harry ended up unconscious on the couch in Severus’ personal rooms? Why hadn’t he brought the boy to the hospital wing? And, most importantly, why did Harry look so different? She had released him from her care just this morning! Her scans showed nothing of this magnitude. The boy was practically a skeleton!

“Before I can explain anything, I need you to do what you can for him, I’d rather he not continue oozing on my furniture.” And Harry _was_ oozing. There were semi-healed cuts littering the boy’s body, and several sores leaking a clear liquid. The burn wounds had also split open in some places, revealing the still developing skin beneath. The injuries marred skin already marked with scars of every kind- burns, cuts, scrapes- there was evidence of them all. The marks adorned an obviously malnourished body. Harry was shorter than he should be, and every one of his ribs was visible. Poppy was brought back to the present when Severus continued. “I need you to catalogue all of his injuries as well. We may need official documentation of them if we are to be of any help to the boy.”

Poppy snapped her head around to look at the man. Official documentation? Just what had happened? She usually took down a record of injuries, of course, but she didn’t send anything in to St. Mungos or the Ministry for official documentation unless a crime had been committed or charges were being pressed. Her notes on her patients went into her daily logbook, which was always locked away after she was finished with it. _What is going on?_ Poppy thought to herself. _I knew Harry was having a hard time with the other Gryffindors, but I didn’t think it had gone this far. This is… horrific._

“Poppy!” Severus barked.

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry Severus! I just can’t help but wonder how he got like this. I mean, I saw him just this morning! He was fine! His burns were healing and he was a healthy weight and- my _god,_ is he _shorter?_  Severus, what is _happening?_ ” Poppy was suddenly afraid. How had the boy managed to hide his condition from her?

“Poppy?”

“Yes?”

“Heal him. Now.” Poppy looked at the man across from her and knew he would brook no argument. This was going to go how he wanted it to, and she was going to help him. It would have scared her, had he been anyone else. But Poppy trusted Severus, maybe even more than she trusted Albus. He would work towards the right goal.

So Poppy went to work. There was a lot to be done. Now that whatever had been blocking her spells was gone, the medi-witch was shocked by how much damage had been done to the small body in front of her. She hadn’t been able to see all of the internal injuries and other issues when she had initially looked him over. Several bones had prior breaks, and not all of them had been set and healed properly. Many of the sores were showing signs of infection. There were bruises on nearly every part of his body and what little portion of his skin was clear of other markings, seemed to be red, irritated, completely dry, and even cracked in some places. Just mentally listing all of the potions and salves she would need to work on him was a chore. She immediately turned to her emergency bag that Severus had demanded she bring and dumped the contents on the table. She turned and waved her wand over the still form on the couch. The results appeared on a scroll spewing from the end of her wand.

“What? This is-“

“Poppy? What is it?”

“I’ve never seen so many injuries on one patient. The parchment is normal, but it’s never been an Ever-Last Scroll. A few inches at most, maybe, but this is… unprecedented. He has wounds _years_ old that have never healed properly. Breaks, cuts, abrasions. He’s had at least one break in almost every bone, including hairline fractures in his _skull._ ” Puppy was nearly in tears. Harry had been in her ward many times over the years, but _never_ for anything like this. She’d grown fond of the boy over the years, and to see him so broken devastated her.

Turning back to the pile of medicine on the table she started sorting through it. She separated the salves from the potions and got started.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Severus asked.

“Yes, start applying the salves. You’ll need to undress him first. You should know which ones to apply where, as you’ve made most of them.” Severus turned and banished the boy’s clothes to the wash basket and started in on rubbing the salves into the boy’s skin. There was one for the rash, one for the burns, one for the sores- it was astounding.

“How will his system take all of these different potions? Wouldn’t it reject all of them, and have him vomit them up?” Severus was curious. Poppy was a professional, and even he could tell that she cared a great deal for the boy. She should know the effects of having so many different potions in his body at the same time.

“Normally it would, but I’ve put him in a deep healing sleep, a sort of miniature coma. His body will function on its lowest acceptable level until he’s healed enough to be awake without pain. It will slow the healing process down some and he won’t wake for a few days, but it’s the only way I can think of to deal with this sort of situation.” Poppy continued as she poured half of the vials into Harry’s mouth and massaged his throat to help them go down. The other half she spelled directly into his bloodstream. “I’ve never dealt with anything this severe before, and I don’t have time to look for other options. He’s magically exhausted on top of everything else and in critical condition. Frankly, I’m amazed he can even walk, let alone sustain a spell powerful enough to fool my scans without raising any red flags. Even if he didn’t cast the spell himself, it takes a lot of energy to keep that sort of thing going, and I can tell it was tied to his magical core. As it is, I barely had to do anything to send him into the healing coma; he was almost there all by himself.”

Severus stared at her in shock. Great Salazar’s ghost it was a miracle the boy was even _alive_. He had to figure this out. _Bringing Poppy into this was a good idea. She can heal him, save him. If it takes a few days for him to wake up, then we have a few days to make plans. As we don’t know exactly what’s happening, there’s not much we can plan for, but we can at least keep him safe until we figure things out. It’s a good thing my classes are over for the day._ Severus might be good at making excuses to men of power, but right now he was too busy scrambling to heal the boy whose father he had hated. It was an interesting feeling.

Hermione was worried. She _thought_ that Harry had been released this morning. He hadn’t been to Transfiguration or Charms, though. _Maybe he’s gone back to the hospital wing. Maybe his burns were acting up and he wanted some medication._ But it had been too long for that, and she knew it. So Hermione went to the hospital wing to check. Walking in, Hermione glanced around. All of the beds were empty, and she didn’t see any light from under Madam Pomfrey’s office door. She was walking over to check the private rooms when she heard the sound of a floo activating.

“Alright, bring him through. Easy now, he’s still unconscious. For Merlin’s sake, watch his _head,_ Severus. You’d think a Potions Master of your caliber would be a bit more graceful, running about those cauldrons every day as you do!”

“Well, _Madam Pomfrey_ , it’s a little difficult to keep watch on Potter’s head when I’m spinning about through the floo. Maybe if you’d kept the connection _open,_ then I could’ve just _stepped_ through, instead of going the long way through all the way from my quarters _in the dungeon,”_ Severus snarked back. His hands and forearms were cramping from covering every inch of the boy’s skin in healing and disinfecting salves, as well as soothers for the aggravated areas of his skin.

Both adults stopped abruptly when they realized they had company. Hermione was standing in the doorway, where she had stopped immediately after barging in at the mention of Harry. She stood stock still, taking in the sight of her friend. She wanted to cry. Harry looked awful. Burns, cuts, scrapes, sores- all over his body.

“Ms. Granger-“ Hermione’s head snapped around at the sound of her name. She stared at the Potions Master. Did he have something to do with this? She didn’t believe any teacher could be so cruel, but she had to know. Then movement drew her eye and she was reminded of Madam Pomfrey’s presence. No, the mediwitch wouldn’t help anybody who had so horribly injured one of her precious students. She had too big of a heart for that. Hearing her professor clear his throat, Hermione looked at the man. He was staring at her. He’d obviously asked her a question or given her an order, but teacher or not, she wasn’t leaving that room until she knew what had happened to Harry. She completely ignored whatever he had said and began her own interrogation.

“What happened to Harry? Who did this? Why does he look so different? I saw him just yesterday and he was fine! Burned and bored with being stuck in the hospital wing, but he was getting better! When I find out who-“

“Miss Granger!” Severus spoke sharply, cutting through her quickly developing rant and gaining her attention. He didn’t like being dismissed. “This is what’s going to happen. If you can stop your incessant chattering and manage to not interrupt me with any needless queries, then we can be finished with this insufferable conversation.” When the girl nodded, he continued. “First, You will be _quiet_ until we can get Mr. Potter to a private room and settled in a bed. After that, you will take an oath of silence pertaining to what you have seen. _Then,”_ he stressed, as she seemed about to interrupt. Great Salazar, could the girl not keep her thoughts to herself for the space of two minutes? “Then, you will turn around and walk out that door and leave us to continue aiding Mr. Potter.”

“No.”

“No?” Severus looked back up from the boy’s chest where he had been smoothing more salve into his bruises there. The girl’s face was set in determined lines, her lips pressed together and brows drawn down over serious eyes. She was going to make this difficult. “ _No?_ You have no-“

“I mean,” Hermione interrupted “that I won’t leave. Giving an oath of silence isn’t the issue. I know Harry has more enemies than friends right now, and that discretion is important, but I will _not_ leave him with you two.” The two adults looked offended and bordering on angry, so she hurried to explain. “ _You,_ Madam Pomfrey, have no quarrel with Harry, but he’s only just left your care and he has no love for hospitals or Healers. It’s nothing personal, but when you’ve had as many medical emergencies as Harry has, it’s not hard to come to despise the very sight of a bandage.” The mediwitch nodded and went back to her spells. Hermione turned to Professor Snape. “You, however, have never treated Harry with anything less than complete contempt and hatred. You loathe him and everyone knows it. I’ll not leave him with you. You won’t even explain to him how he got where he is, or what happened before you got your hands on him. However much your skill with Potions is needed now, Harry is going to need a friend to talk to, and you dn’t fit the bill. I will not interfere with his treatment, and I will give him space to recover. I’m one of the few in all of Gryffindor that will even speak with Harry more than to throw insults at him.”

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but apparently the girl wasn’t done yet. “ _In addition,_ Harry is likely to blame himself for getting into this situation in the first place. How would you deal with that? Tell him to suck it up? Berate him for being a foolish Gryffindor for pandering to unnecessary feelings? That’s not what he needs now. He’s going to need support and comfort. He’s going to need _me,_ the person who knows him best. Well,” she said with a bitter laugh “as well as he can be known. Harry’s not exactly an open person. Especially not recently.” Severus frowned at that. Surely the boy had been bemoaning his plight to anyone who would listen, _especially_ his know-it-all friend. That he hadn’t been was surprising. That is, until Severus looked at the boy in question. If he had been keeping the secret of his injuries to himself, without telling even the Granger girl, as he obviously had, the shock on her face had been sincere when she saw her friend, then who’s to say he hadn’t been keeping other secrets?

For the first time, Severus felt guilty for his behavior towards the Potter boy. For assuming he’d had pampered life he had always wanted. For assuming that, because of who his father was, he would be just like him, despite the fact that he’d only been a year old when the man had died. Instead, it seemed that the Potter boy’s, _Harry’s_ , life had been far more similar to his own. He had to have gotten those scars and cuts from somewhere, as well as the badly healed breaks all over his body. There was no way he could have gotten them all while at school, and Severus knew he’d not been fighting the Dark Lord over the summer break, so he really only could have been so badly hurt at his relatives’ house. Given that he knew they lived in Surrey, and _not_ the Sahara or the Amazon, it became clear that the boy had been abused. How badly still remained to be seen, and when Severus had a sudden thought, he paled, and rushed to Poppy’s side.

“Poppy! I need you to check for signs of abuse other the than the physical.”

“Severus, I can’t to a full mental or emotional evaluation until Harry is awake and talking.”

“No, Poppy. I need you to check him for signs of sexual abuse.” Severus nearly choked getting the words out. To rape someone was a complete violation of their body, mind, emotions, and even their magic. Magic was a wild thing, tamed to a certain extent for the use of humans, but still wild, animalistic. It would not reject sexual advances itself, and instead accept the sexual pleasure, and if its host was not strong enough to fight off an attacker physically or magically, or didn’t even have their wand on hand to fight back, they were defenseless. In the case of a purely violent attack, Magic had been known to fight to defend her host until they could escape, but never in a sexual situation.

Witches and wizards who had been raped almost always shut themselves off from their magic, completely avoiding any contact with the power coursing through them. They often ended up killing themselves to escape the madness of being close enough to touch and feel the warmness that was Magic, but closed off to the feeling. Knowing that they were doing it to themselves made them go the last inch over the edge, and many committed suicide, sometimes taking the people around them out with them. If the rejection of magic was strong enough, it would grow agitated at being ignored and explode outwards, killing anyone in its way as it sought to reconnect with the Earth Magic surrounding it. It was heart wrenching to witness, even if the victim was a stranger.

If Harry had been raped…. Severus didn’t even want to ponder the consequences. The boy was important. The prophecy named him as the only one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord. To have him helpless, shut off from his magic, it would be disastrous. Severus found himself not only worried over the outcome of the war, but the well being of the child laid out in front of him. Life hadn’t been fair to him, and while Severus knew that life wasn’t fair for anyone, he felt a twinge when he remembered his own part in Harry’s torment.

“-erus… Severus!” Poppy had obviously been trying to get his attention. While he’d been distracted, she’d managed to move the boy into the private room just off her personal rooms. When she saw she had his attention, she hurried to reassure him. “There’s no sign of any sexual abuse.” Severus sighed in relief. That was one positive thing in this avalanche of downsides.

“Madam Pomfrey?” Oh, _now_ the girl gets timid, Severus thought. “When will Harry wake up? He looks…. Well, he looks dead. I don’t-“ Hermione was at that point too choked up to continue.

“Oh dear,” Poppy bustled around the bed to cup Hermione’s face in her hands.  “Not to worry. I’ve put him in a healing coma. He won’t wake up for a few days, and his systems are functioning just enough to keep him alive and healing. Do you understand? It’s going to look like he’s on the verge of death for a while, and truly, if Severus hadn’t found and helped him, he would be. But we got to him in time. He _is_ going to recover, do you hear me?” Hermione nodded. She glanced at the dark professor standing at the foot of the bed.

“Are you ready to swear your silence, Ms. Granger?” at her nod, Severus took her through the process of a wizard’s oath. If Hermione ever willingly divulged any of the information she was about to receive, she would lose her memories of it, her magic, and possibly even her mind. As has been said, Magic itself is a primal thing. It will not easily break an oath, once made. Even the most primal beings have a certain code that they live by. Magic would not let Hermione break her vow without consequences. Her magic would turn its back on her. Ripping the magic completely out of someone would kill them, but locking it away works just as well. And being able to feel, but not touch, your magic would drive anyone insane.

Now understanding exactly what she was to do, Hermione stepped forward, and raised her wand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> What will Poppy’s reaction to seeing Harry be? Will she try to find a way around the oath to tell Dumbledore? What happens when Harry wakes up?


End file.
